How the Healing Happened

Here's what freed me:

“I don’t think dad’s love meant much,” I tell my brother one night. We often take long car rides around town, grabbing a box to eat, and sitting in the car joking - or musing about life. Or, obviously, in some cases getting deep about what’s been haunting us.

He asked what I meant.

I proceeded to explain how his love for his family was quite similar to my love for… pizza. It’s something I know I love. But I take no steps in moving on that love and demonstrating my love for it. I don’t seek out a pizza shop every week, I could actually go a full month without even seeing or eating pizza. But I know the love is there. Yet, my love for pizza does not mean much.

If I had to pinpoint when I set myself free. It’d be that night. That sentence. The weight of disappointment or longing for that love suddenly, slowly dissipated.

This disappointment which led me into isolation. A space where I let no one in, for fear of more disappointment. The isolation held a subtle sense of lonliness. The loneliness which could’ve caused a deep depression, but instead brought understanding and joy.

The joy caused the healing.

For it was the emotion that transformed thoughts such as “I’m scared of being left” to thoughts such as “I don’t want my love to be forgettable”.

The joy caused me to want to be intentional with my love.

To deeply appreciate people’s existence. To frequently show and tell those I love that I love them.

The love forced me into softening myself: being sappy.

Being gentle.

“I am spinning no one can see it but it is/ happening. I am so glad to be alive,/ I am so glad to be loving and loved.” - Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings (“If I Were”)

All my love,

Yulani S.